


it comes and goes in waves

by viscrael



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: (v briefly), 64 Prompts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Prompt Fill, b/c i felt bad abt the last thing i wrote have this slightly-longer-than-normal thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3864511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscrael/pseuds/viscrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they meet, it’s raining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it comes and goes in waves

**Author's Note:**

> i ??? dont rlly kno what this is???? i just rlly wnat them to b happy so i spit this out lmao

The first time they meet, it’s raining.

The sky is overcast, covered in dark, dark clouds that seem to roll on for miles. Shion isn’t in any sort of hurry as he would usually be; today, he’s taking his time, a cup of coffee in on hand as he holds an umbrella with the other. It started sprinkling a few minutes earlier, and he’s staring at the sky, or what he can see of it from underneath his umbrella, paying no attention to the people that are passing him by on the sidewalk.

That is, paying no attention until someone bumps into him.

“Oof!” He doesn’t fall down, but he does stumble significantly, and in turn his umbrella goes skittering from his hand. The coffee mug in his other hand had a lid on it, thank goodness, otherwise he would’ve gotten it all over the stranger in front of him.

“Oh, sorry, I—wasn’t paying attention,” Shion says, bending down to pick up his umbrella. When he straightens up again, he realizes that it had caused the other person’s things to be knocked over in turn as well. He rushes to help clean up the mess he assisted in causing, having to put his coffee mug down so he can hold his umbrella.

“I’m really sorry,” he says again, meaning it as he gathers the papers in his hands, now damp from the concrete and rain, and stands up. He’s met with a pair of gray eyes, dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration as the man in front of him struggles to get his things in order. If Shion weren’t currently completely in awe of his beauty, he would’ve moved to hand him his things.

“I hope you don’t plan on keeping those,” the man says, nodding towards the papers that are still clutched in Shion’s hand. His coffee cup is on the ground next to his feet. He thinks it unimportant.

“What?” is his intelligent response.

“My stuff.” The stranger gestures to him. “I need those.”

“What? Oh! Oh, these.” He fumbles to get them together with one hand and give them back to their owner, who has now shuffled them away in a small bag slung over one shoulder, probably a computer bag. He has no umbrella.

“Right, well, if you’ll excuse me,” he says, shouldering past Shion.

“Wait!”

The man turns around, wearing a blank expression. “What?”

“Don’t you need an umbrella?”

His eyebrows furrow again. “What?”

“It’s only sprinkling right now, but it’s supposed to start storming later today, maybe even enough to have a tornado warning. You’ll need an umbrella.”

“Somehow, I think I’ll manage,” he says coolly, turning back around, and Shion can tell he has every interest in finishing this conversation, but Shion is having none of that.

“You can borrow mine,” he blurts out before the thought has even processed through. The man stares at him for a second, expression unwavering.

“Ah, but then you’ll be without one,” he finally responds, shifting the bag on his shoulder. It’s started sprinkling a bit harder.

Shion shakes his head and offers a small grin. “Somehow, I think I’ll manage.”

His words are rewarded with a chuckle, the sound clear and low and doing things to Shion’s brain. “Fine,” he relents, and their hands brush as he takes the handle.

“I’m Shion.”

“Like the flower,” he muses.

Shion nods.

“Well, Shion,” he says, “thank you for the umbrella, but I have to get going. You better finish that coffee before it gets cold.” He points to where the cup sits on the ground still.

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name too?”

“No need.” He’s already turned around and started walking. “I’ll get this back to you sometime.”

“How?” Shion calls after him, but he doesn’t seem to hear, or if he does, he pretends not to. Huffing, the white haired man flicks his bangs out of his eyes, picks up the cup, and starts back to work. He’s not late, but the drizzle is starting to get to him.

 

\--

 

The second time they meet, the sky is dark, littered with stars and a moon so bright it looks like a lamp.

It’s only been a week after their original encounter, and the week has thus been full of storm after storm. Shion has no problem with this; he likes rain most of the time, and it only gets annoying if it’s raining as he goes to and from work at his mother’s bakery. He’d wanted to attend a college, of course, but it was only his mother and him living together, and they’d been low on money ever since she lost her job and had to start over. There are always scholarships he could go by, she reminds him often as he does have quite a few of those, but even just the housing expenses are too much for them at the moment, since they’d recently moved to a poorer part of town and now share an apartment a few blocks over from the bakery. More often than not, she heads over before him, so he often makes the short trip on his own. There are no set hours of course, but he likes to have a time for himself anyway as a way of feigning busyness.

The apartment they live in is small, but it’s comfortable enough, and he really can’t ask for more when she seems so much happier now. The night he meets the man again, it’s raining, but the sky seems oddly clear. He’s had a busy day and was consequently sound asleep when the fire alarm goes off at 2:43 AM.

Blearily, he and his mother make their way outside the building, standing around with the other residents, most clad in pajamas. A man, probably nearing his forties, wobbles out in nothing but a bedsheet, a woman beside him almost just as bare. Shion politely ignores them. His mother has disappeared, walking around to talk to some of their friendlier neighbors, when he sees him.

He’s sitting on the curb, looking bored out of his mind with a small cigarette in his hand. Still, he doesn’t smoke it, just holds it and continues looking, seemingly unfazed by the current chaos that the evacuation caused. Shion sits down next to him.

“Hi,” he says.

The man blinks at him. “Hey.” He twists the cigarette in two fingers idly, still not putting it to his lips. “You’re the kid from the other day.”

Shion doesn’t bother correcting him on his age. “Yeah, and you’re the guy that wouldn’t tell me your name.”

“I was in a hurry,” he says in way of excuse, shrugging his shoulders.

“Did it do you any good?”

He looks up. “Hm?”

“The umbrella. Did it do you any good?”

“Oh.” He shifts where he sits, gray eyes flitting back to look at the parking lot and away from the boy next to him. “Yeah, it helped.”

“Good.”

They sit in silence. Shion doesn’t do much but look at the man; he’s remarkably good looking, profile elegant with a strong jawline and pink lips. Those eyes stay trained ahead of him for most of the time.

“Are you just going to stare at me all night?”

Shion blinks. “I wasn’t staring.”

A snort. Still, he doesn’t do anything with the cigarette. “Admiring, gaping, watching, looking—whatever you want to call it, then. I say ‘staring’ fits best though.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” he tries to defend himself. He can hear the low hum of conversation behind them, the other residents having calmed down to annoyance instead of worry.

“Sure.”

“Are you ever going to actually smoke that?” He blurts out. He seems to do that a lot now.

The man looks at where Shion had gestured to his hand. “Why, do you want it if I don’t?”

“Of course not,” Shion answers without missing a beat. “I’m not too keen on lung cancer.”

“Well, then neither am I.”

“But you still have it.”

“Your point being?”

“Well.” He looks curiously at the other man. “I mean, there’s not much of a point in holding a cigarette, or even having them for that matter, if you don’t smoke.”

“Astute observation.”

“What’s your name?”

“Unimportant.”

Shion huffs. “You know mine. It doesn’t seem fair to not tell me yours. And what was that before, about giving me my umbrella back when you could? You didn’t even give me your name then, how did you expect to return it?”

“We live in the same apartment complex,” he says as way of explanation.

“So, you knew that then, but didn’t mention it?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’ve never noticed me before.”

“But you’ve noticed me.”

He pauses and, after a moment, offers a seductive grin. “How could I not, what with such unusual hair? I think I’d remember that any day. Did you mess up bleaching it or something?”

“It’s…a bit of a story,” he mumbles, looking away. It’s not a “bit of a story” at all. He just doesn’t like talking about it.

“We’ve got time.” He gestures behind them at the people still wandering around, tired and annoyed. “Go right ahead.”

“I might,” Shion says thoughtfully, “if you give me your name.”

“A hard bargain, but I think I’ll pass.”

“I’ll find out sometime,” he shrugs.

“You’re sure about that?”

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t. After all, we live in the same apartment complex.”

“Valid point.” He’s still messing with the cigarette, twirling it between his index and middle finger. Shion watches the movement. His fingers are long and his hands look rough and calloused. His nails are painted black, but the polish is starting to chip.

“You’re staring again,” the man points out. “What, you got a hand kink?”

“Not that I know of.” Shion moves his gaze to stare at the rain. They’re close to the end of the canopy. If he were to reach out a little, he could skim the raindrops and watch them under the streetlights. He doesn’t.

“There’s a first time for everything.” The voice next to him is low. The man seems tired, but the sound still resembles something like honey.

“Are you flirting with me?” Shion doesn’t mean it as an accusation; he genuinely wants to know. He’s not exactly had the most successful of romantic endeavors in his eighteen years of life, he knows that—the only experience he’s ever really had was the time his best friend confessed to him a few years back, but even that he had rejected.

The man laughs a little. “Maybe. Do you want me to be?”

“I’d probably want you to more if you told me your name.”

“I think I’ll pass again. You’d be horrible at haggling.”

“Don’t worry, I am.” Shion thinks back to the few times he’d tried. It went worse than expected. They sit in silence.

The fire department arrives a few moments later and within ten minutes or so, once they’ve found out it was only someone burning their food, everyone is allowed back in. Shion finds himself looking for the man, but he’s already gone.

 

\--

 

The third time they meet is the Saturday after that, four days later, on the stairwell. The sky is clear, the rain having gone, and the sun shines brightly.

“Nezumi,” Shion says as the man passes him.

He stops. Turns around. Looks at Shion, expression not telling anything. “Hm?”

“That’s your name, isn’t it? Nezumi,” Shion repeats himself. He likes the sound of it on his tongue. He’d spent a while mouthing the word to himself in private earlier that day, after he’d found it out from one of their shared neighbors, a kid with long brown hair a few years younger than him who is still in high school. They’d spat the name with such disgust, but Shion only found fondness in his voice when he said it.

“Congratulations, you’ve figured it out. Would you like me to buy you a cake to celebrate?” Nezumi asks, sarcastic as ever, but Shion isn’t off-put by his attitude. Instead, he smiles brightly.

“There’s no need. My mother is a baker.”

“Is that so.” Nezumi doesn’t sound interested at all. He starts down the stairwell again, but Shion follows.

“The rain has stopped,” he points out.

“Astute observation as always, Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty?” He echoes, confused.

Nezumi grins at him, something between amused and mocking. “A perfect fit for you, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Hardly.” They reach the end of the stairwell, and Nezumi swings the door open for him to walk through, following behind. “Are you on your way to work?”

“Yep.” Nezumi doesn’t stop walking. They exit the building together.

“Where do you work?”

“You’ve only just hardly found out my name, I don’t think I should divulge such secrets just yet.”

“Would Inukashi happen to know?”

Nezumi barely glances at him, but his eyes harder at the mention of the high schooler. “Let me guess. They’re the one that told you my name.”

“Well, yes and no.” They step out into the street; the sun is hotter than it has been in a while, and it feels good to Shion, who rolls the sleeves of his cardigan up. “I just overheard them talking to someone else.”

“And you put the name together with me?”

Shion smiles. “I don’t know who else they would describe so venomously as a ‘rotten, sultry bastard.’”

Nezumi puts a hand over his heart in mock pain. “You wound me, Your Majesty.”

“Their words, not mine,” he chirps. They walk in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Nezumi stops at a crossroad, turns to him, and gives a mocking bow.

“Unfortunately, this is where we must depart,” he says. “I hope my company wasn’t too unpleasant for the prince.”

“Your work is that way?” Shion points in the direction opposite of the bakery.

Nezumi straightens up. “So you’ve noticed.”

“Oh.”

“And, even more unfortunately, I can’t be late today, or my boss might just yell at me again.” He smirks. “What a pain.”

“In that case, I guess I’ll see you later?” Shion grins again and watches the way pale skin crinkles around those gray eyes as the smirk turns to a gentle pull on the side of his mouth, a smile so small he might not have noticed it.

“Bye, Shion,” he says before crossing the street.

Shion thinks about those eyes all day at work.

 

\--

 

The fifth time they meet, the sky is blue, bluer than it has been in a while, with no clouds in sight. Shion knocks on his apartment door twice.

He’s only had to wait a moment before the door swings open and a groggy-looking Nezumi stands in front of him, still in pajamas despite it being two PM on a Sunday afternoon.

“Why are you here so goddamn early?” He snarls. Shion rolls his eyes, more than used to his behavior at this point.

“It’s two in the afternoon,” he says.

“Like I said: early.” Nezumi’s hair is loose from its usual ponytail, almost falling out of it, and he runs a hand through his bangs as he walks away from the door and sinks into his couch, leaving Shion to come in on his own.

He does, closing the door behind him. “Are you hungover?” Shion asks.

“As fuck.” He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, leaning back into the cushions, face tense in pain. Shion rummages around his kitchen for a moment before finding what he’d been looking for.

“Here,” he says, handing a glass of water and some Advil to him. Nezumi takes it without a word, swallowing the pills and then immediately flopping back down onto his couch. Shion stifles a laugh, but it’s heard anyway.

“Are you laughing at me?” Nezumi asks, narrowing his eyes at the white haired man.

“No, no, of course not.” Shion coughs into his hand to keep from giggling. “I would never.”

“Uh-huh.” Nezumi rolls over on the couch and buries his face in cushion. He groans loudly. “Remind me never to drink that much again ever.”

It’s been four weeks since they started enjoying each other’s company, something akin to friends, and still Shion is amazed at how dramatic he makes everything seem. “It’s karma for drinking before you’re of legal age.”

Nezumi doesn’t move from his spot, voice muffled in the pillow as he counters, “How do you know I’m not legal?”

Shion blinks, realizing that he doesn’t know. It’s more of a feeling than anything. “You can’t be any older than I am.”

“Not true. I’m nineteen.”

“Alright, then you’re a whole year older than me. Maybe half a year. You’re not twenty-one, so that’s still underage.”

“Whatever. Leave it to you to lecture me on morals and legality while I’m in pain.”

Shion doesn’t respond. He sits down on the edge of the couch, Nezumi having left just enough space for him, and sighs. Absentmindedly, he cards his fingers through the man’s dark hair, pulling it loose from its ponytail completely and gently untangling it. Nezumi sighs into the pillow, and if Shion didn’t know better he might’ve said it sounded content.

“Ow! Jesus, Shion, be careful of knots—“

“Sorry, sorry!” Shion apologizes sheepishly, pulling his hands away. He gets up from where he’s sitting and disappears into the apartment’s bathroom. When he comes back in the living room, Nezumi has only moved so that he’s on his back and can see instead of buried in pillows.

“Sit up,” Shion requests, and Nezumi doesn’t complain as he does so. Shion sits behind him on the couch, his folded knees brushing the other’s back, and runs the comb he’d retrieved through Nezumi’s long hair, working on getting the knots out.

“If you’re going to keep your hair long,” Shion reprimands, working on one that’s particularly bad, “you have to at least maintain it.”

“Are you implying that my hair is in any less than a constant perfect st—fuck!”

“See? If you brushed it more often, this wouldn’t happen.” Shion’s glad he’s behind him because that means he doesn’t have to hide the way his face splits into an amused grin.

“Shut up,” Nezumi snaps, but it’s lacking in every aspect, and when Shion is finished, he runs his hands through his hair and flops them both down on the couch, pulling the other boy to his chest and tucking that white head of hair under his chin.

“Nezumi, it’s two in the afternoon, we can’t just nap—“

“Shut up,” he says again. He’s already falling asleep. Shion sighs in resignation and sleeps too.

 

\--

 

It’s the twenty-first time they meet up, and the sky is overcast, the air hot and sweltering around them.

Nezumi and Shion are at Shion’s mother’s bakery, helping knead dough while his mother takes customers. It gets particularly busy during the summer months for some reason, despite the lack of cold sweets they sell, and she'd requested Nezumi’s help on his days off, if he could please. Shion watched his resolve crumble before he huffed and agreed, complaining the whole way.

That leaves them to knead the dough and finish this batch of butter rolls. Shion is almost done with his fair share when Nezumi huffs, but from exertion and not annoyance.

“Karan doesn’t get enough credit for this,” he mumbles, eyebrows furrowed as he watches himself work carefully. Shion laughs at the concentrated expression on his face, so uncharacteristic of the man that he can’t help but be pleasantly surprised. Despite how serious and dramatic he often acts, he still has a bit of childishness left over. Shion’s heart speeds up, and he only laughs louder, fuller, when Nezumi turns his eyes on him, narrowed and accusing, and asks what’s funny.

Shion has to stop what he’s doing because he’s laughing so hard. When his mom comes back, he’s slumped over the counter, holding his stomach while Nezumi tries and fails to repress a grin.

 

\--

 

The forty-ninth time they meet up, the sky is muggy gray, the clouds heavy with the anticipation of rain. The news channels are showing flash flood warnings all around, saying that there would be severe storms coming in soon, and for everyone to stay inside if they can.

Shion doesn’t mind that much. He makes an offhand comment about it, but it’s difficult to be scared when he and Nezumi are curled up in the older man’s apartment, wrapped in a blanket on his couch. He blows softly on the mug of tea in his hand, trying to cool it down faster before taking a sip. It’s delicious. He tells Nezumi so.

“One of my many talents,” he says.

“Alongside acting, lifting things for my mom, and sleeping in late?” Shion asks teasingly. He receives a flick on his nose.

“Don’t forget seduction,” he adds.

“Oh, how foolish of me to have left out the most important.” Shion rolls his eyes good-naturedly; he feels warm, and not just from the tea. They sit in silence for a few moments, watching whatever happens to be playing on TV. Nezumi flips through channels for a while before staying on some cheesy romcom that Shion remembers having come out a year or two ago.

“You’re staring at me again,” Nezumi says.

Shion blinks. “Was I?”

The older scoffs, muttering _Airhead_ under his breath before turning his attention back to the screen. If Shion were paying attention, he would see the first couple of opening scenes, featuring the beautiful leading actress and the handsome leading actor meeting for the first time. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t.

“You have pretty eyelashes,” he says. Nezumi doesn’t do much but glance at him.

“Are you saying that’s the reason you were staring at me?”

Shion actually thinks about it for a second. “One of them.”

“What are the others?”

“There are a lot others.”

“Such as?”

“Well…” he looks down at the contents of his mug as if that’ll help him answer, biting his lip. “Your eyes.”

A corner of Nezumi’s lip turns up. “What about them?”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Why, I’m not sure I’m worthy of such a compliment from Your Majesty. You’re making me blush.”

“I’m speaking objectively,” Shion huffs. “And you _know_ they’re pretty too.”

“Do I?”

“Of course.”

“What else?”

“…Your jawline.”

“That’s an oddly specific reason.” He shifts where they’re curled together under the blankets, a small grin playing on red lips, wet from having just been drinking his own share of tea. “Care to elaborate?”

“Not really.”

He actually barks out a laugh at that. “Is the prince embarrassed?”

“Far from it,” Shion answers, and he’s honest when he says it. He’s not embarrassed at all. “You just already know the reason why, so I don’t think it’d do much good to explain something you already understand.”

“Are you implying that I’m full of myself?” The TV in front of them plays on, completely unnoticed at this point.

“I’m implying that you know just how beautiful you are. You make good use of it, too, what with all the flirting you do.”

“Me? Flirt? Never.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, and it’s pissing me off, quite frankly.” Shion furrows his eyebrows and takes a sip of his tea.

“You don’t like me flirting with you?”

“Not if you’re not going to do anything other than that.”

They’re silent for a moment. Nezumi’s still smiling, but it’s gentler somehow. “Do you _want_ me to do anything other than that?”

“I don’t know,” Shion answers honestly.

“Would it help you to find out if I did something?”

“That depends on the something.”

The rain is coming down hard outside. Shion can hear the roar of it getting louder, like the weather reporter had predicted.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Nezumi says as way of asking for permission. Shion doesn’t move away, and when he feels lips brushing his own, his heart speeds up, that warmth spreading over him.

When Nezumi pulls away, his voice is soft, almost a whisper, and it’s deeper than it had been a moment ago. “Do you know now?”

Shion nods.

They hardly hear the rain outside when their lips meet again.


End file.
